I Appreciate the Effort
by hannahbbug3
Summary: Set just after 03x10. Merlin was just a clumsy, bumbling idiot, who fell down way too often and didn't have enough meat on his bones to keep from bruising, who wore clothes so threadbare it made Arthur cringe, who showed up too late and too tired too many times, who Arthur never worried about (absolutely not!). And, well, Merlin knew that. But Arthur cared in his own ways.
1. Chapter 1

Swish, swish. Huff. Swish. Swish, swish. _Sigh._ Swish, swish. Swish. "Bugger."

Merlin did his best to ignore the almost dramatic mutterings of the prince as he cleared the table from breakfast, but after they'd gone on for more than five minutes, he was starting to think that Arthur was waiting for him to comment.

"Wardrobe malfunction, sire?" he spoke up, earning him another sigh in response as Arthur came out from behind the changing screen. The Prince wasn't often one to worry so much about how he dressed – that was more his father's thing, and Arthur didn't exactly parade around in royal attire when he didn't have to. But today was a special occasion. Some obscure lord and lady were paying a visit to the citadel and there was a feast being held in their honor, and as they were set to arrive this morning, Arthur had to look at least presentable. Merlin had been in charge of clearing the prince's schedule, making sure that there was someone capable to take over training the new recruits for Arthur, assuring that he knew who was coming and when and what meals were to be taken in the Great Hall and when he had to be in the square… of course, with how late the prince was running, now, Merlin wondered if he'd heard any of it. He supposed it didn't matter – he'd get blamed for any tardiness on Arthur's behalf, anyway. At least the prince was mostly dressed, now; all he seemed to be struggling with was his jacket, which Merlin found odd, honestly. The servant could tell it was a new one, because usually the prince would just request his brown leather vest and be done with it. This new jacket, Merlin hadn't laid his eyes on before. It was of rather fine make; colored the Pendragon red with some fancy gold stitching done to hold the buttons in place, it certainly looked like something that Arthur would normally be quite pleased with.

Except it was about two sizes two small.

Biting back a comment about how Arthur should cut back at feasts, Merlin half-grinned and spoke. "Who sent you that?" he asked, wondering why Arthur had bothered so long with the thing that obviously didn't fit.

"Sir Bedivere. Apparently his wife made it."

Merlin nodded, and his gaze went back to the stitch work. "Well, she seems to be a good seamstress."

Arthur gave his servant a flat look, reminding him of the size of the thing.

"Is she?" he asked, before tugging the jacket off rather roughly. Merlin half put his hands out in protest to Arthur tossing around the well-made article like that, but he was a spoiled, arrogant prince and would do what he wanted. "Fetch me my brown vest, would you?" Arthur requested, and Merlin dropped what he was doing at the table to do as requested. He helped Arthur manage his arms into the vest and tied the front of it up for him.

"There you are, sire, ready to go. You're due in the square in five minutes."

Arthur hummed a contemplative noise, his gaze returning to the new jacket that he had discarded on the floor. Merlin's eyes followed his. "Should I do something with that?" he asked, waiting on Arthur's instruction or dismissal.

"I don't care," Arthur said. "It doesn't fit."

"Seems a waste to just throw it out, though," Merlin said, and then the servant caught Arthur looking at him. "What?" he asked.

Arthur shrugged. "You can have it," he decided, heading for the door. "It'd probably fit a twig like you."

"What- really?" Merlin asked, scooping the jacket off the floor to evaluate it for himself. Well, the style certainly wasn't bad, and the color wasn't too garish... Arthur stopped in the doorway, and Merlin looked up to him for his confirmation.

"Are you deaf, Merlin?" the prince intoned, though there was no real bite as much as there was a smile hidden somewhere in Arthur's voice. "Yes. Take it," he said. "You'd need something suitable to wear to the feast tonight, anyways. Don't be late, by the way, someone has to ensure my cup doesn't run dry."

Merlin blinked, struck dumb for a moment. "I- right. Of course, sire. I'll be there."

* * *

><p>Later that evening, at the feast, Merlin found himself standing behind Arthur's chair, to his right as per usual with a pitcher of red wine in his hands. The Prince was not talking as animatedly as his father was to their guests, who were seated between them, but he was present for the conversation, nodding where needed and chipping in a few words of his own every once in a while. And so, he was sufficiently distracted enough to not notice that Merlin wasn't wearing his new jacket. The servant got away with it for a good hour, until Arthur's cup was starting to look empty for the third time, and Merlin had to once again weasel his way between Arthur and Camelot's head knight, Leon, to get to it. And that was an awful lot of large man to try and get between. As Merlin wasn't the most graceful person in the world, he bumped into Arthur's shoulder as he leaned to refill the goblet, which in turn caused the prince to look away from the conversation between the visiting noble and his father to Merlin. The small smile that had been on his face as he listened to his father recount one of his favorite battle stories faded as he surprisingly took note of Merlin's attire.<p>

"You're not wearing the jacket," he said, and Merlin was shocked, because not only had the prince noticed, but he seemed… almost disappointed. Merlin cleared his throat a little and offered a short and quiet explanation, as at feasts, servants were meant to be hardly seen and never heard.

"It didn't fit," he said, and Arthur nodded a little.

"I knew it was way too small, for any grown man—"

"Er, no," Merlin said, somewhat embarrassedly. "It's too big." By that point, Arthur's cup was full again and Merlin could retreat back behind Arthur's chair, though he did not miss the incredulous look the prince gave him.

* * *

><p>'Well,' Arthur thought. 'I'm going to have to fix that.'<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to mersan123 for your review! It's comments like yours that I love to write for. I hope you all enjoy the next chapter, and please RR! It means a lot to me.**  
><strong>This next chapter delves into Arthur's thoughts a little more. I apologize for anything out of character, it's my first time writing as Arthur and I'm always looking to improve! At any rate, enjoy, next chapter coming soon.<strong>

Sometimes, Arthur could really, really, be a spoiled, arrogant, bratty clotpole.

"No, this won't do," the prince said, throwing down his spoon like a petulant child. "I simply can't stomach it, what even is this?" he demanded.

Merlin tried to ward off his impending headache. "It's chicken stew," he offered in what he hoped was (but really knew wasn't) a peaceful tone. "I made it twice last week and you didn't say anything then – no, my mistake, you actually said it was good, last week."

"And is this the same chicken you used for it last week, Merlin? Meat goes bad, you know, this is disgusting, I simply cannot eat it." Arthur shoved the bowl away and crossed his arms, and Merlin let out a deep, heavy sigh as he went to collect the bowl.

"It's going to take me a while to make something else."

Arthur frowned, and Merlin thought there was more to the expression than just a scowl, which he might've expected. "No, don't bother," he said flippantly. "I couldn't possibly eat anything after that." The prince got up from the table, leaving Merlin to clear up the barely touched food. The servant was frowning deeply and shaking his head, muttering things under his breath like 'arrogant prat' and 'clotpole' and 'never appreciates what's done for him'.

It was after that one that Arthur spoke again. "If you're so insistent that it's a good meal, Merlin, take it for yourself. I don't care, but if you get sick off of it, I don't want to hear it. I expect you for work anyways."

Merlin heaved a sigh, but before passing judgment, tasted the stew himself – not like he hadn't tried it fifteen times while he was making it, Prince Arthur was not an easy person to cook for. Now, just as then, Merlin thought the taste was wonderful. But it was one of his mother's recipes, so maybe he was biased? At any rate, he wasn't going to let it go to waste, there was a whole pot here. He took the lot and left Arthur's room without waiting for his dismissal, tonight. Arthur was going to be a brat about it either way, and now seemed as good an escape as any. He was ready to ignore Arthur's orders to return, but the shouts never came, so he just kept walking.

* * *

><p>'That could have gone better,' Arthur thought, frowning to himself. 'Now I've made him mad at me… doesn't he realize how hard it was for me to let him take all of that? Heaven, I'm starved, and that was delicious. But no one ever said doing the right thing was easy – I wish he'd just appreciate it, though! Doesn't he realize I do care that he gets a square meal?'<p>

With a sinking feeling, Arthur realized that Merlin probably didn't. And yelling at him probably hadn't helped that situation.

Arthur knew that he and Merlin couldn't be friends, because Arthur was a prince, and Merlin was just a servant. But as he'd admitted to Merlin once (and had since rarely admitted to himself, again), if he wasn't a prince, well… he thought he and Merlin might have gotten along pretty well. And, recently, he'd begun to see servants in a different light. He supposed he had Guinevere to thank for that, for opening his eyes… but, of course, what he felt for Guinevere was in no way what he felt with Merlin. To Arthur's eyes, Merlin was still very much a clumsy, bumbling idiot that didn't know when to toe the line or when to close his mouth, who fell down way too often and didn't have enough meat on his bones to keep from bruising, who seemed like a strong enough wind could just carry him away, who wore clothes so threadbare it was almost indecent and it made Arthur cringe (well, maybe not, but Merlin could afford something that didn't leave him cold all the time, right?!), who showed up late for work with exhaustion bruised eyes too often and sometimes flinched when Arthur yelled (he felt a little guilty for that, but if Merlin would just get off his lazy rear and do his job then he'd have time to sleep! And eat, too, he really was a twig, the poor- no, no I did not just think that!), who Arthur never worried about (absolutely not!).

The prince closed his eyes and, with a sigh that was much too heavy for as insignificant a worry as he kept telling himself this was, rested back down in his previously vacated chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his eyes to stare at the door, which Merlin had left open in his wake. The cause of all this worrying had started here, in this room, just a week ago. It had been a stressful week for Arthur, that had almost seen the woman he loved killed for a crime she didn't commit, when out of nowhere a sorcerer appeared to take the blame. Yes, take the blame, Arthur knew, because his feelings for Gwen were certainly not from some enchantment. They were very real. That sorcerer had appeared, taken the blame, and given Gwen her freedom again.

Arthur wasn't the thanking type, but if the old man hadn't disappeared into thin air, he thought he might would. The best he could do, it seemed, to repay this act was to actually listen to what that man, Dragoon, he'd called himself, had said to him.

'Oh, Prince Arthur, I've heard how you… mistreat your servants! They do everything for you, but do they ever get any thanks? Noooo… you're a spoiled, arrogant brat with the brains of a donkey and the face of a toad!'

Most of that speech had drawn a rise out of Arthur, and still did even now. It was certainly not true! He was the prince of Camelot, and no one had the right to speak to him that way!

'Arrogant prat.'

'Clotpole.'

'Never appreciates what's done for him…'

But there was why Arthur kept coming back to it. Because now, he heard those things from Merlin. Merlin, his own servant, who was quite honestly the person who knew Arthur best in the world. If even Merlin agreed with this stranger…

Arthur revisited his mental image of his too-tired, too-thin, and altogether too-loyal servant. If Arthur was these things, why did Merlin even bother?

'Well,' Arthur mused, 'Perhaps he thinks of me as a friend, too.' It was never something either of them said aloud, but the sentiment was there, certainly. They both knew. But what did Merlin see worth sticking around for, if Arthur was the 'spoiled prince' that he found himself constantly accused of being?

He supposed it was something he'd have to figure out.

No – it was something he'd have to disprove.

…maybe Merlin deserved a day off.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone who left reviews! They really mean a lot to me. Enjoy this next chapter!**

The next morning, Merlin woke up to ignorant bliss. It was the best night's sleep he'd gotten in ages, and he wasn't sure if it was because last night's dinner had been good (despite what Arthur had to say about it) or the fact that the sun was shining warmly on his face when he awoke, or the fact that he'd just managed to sleep a full 8 hours…

About then, it hit him. He was late.

He leapt out of bed and scrambled into his clothes, threw his door open with a bang, and ignored Gaius' call from their breakfast table as he sprinted down the hall to get to the prince's chambers. Arthur was never appreciative of tardiness, maybe Merlin could blow it off by saying he'd gotten sick off of the stew like Arthur seemed to believe he would…

When he rushed into Arthur's room, he realized with a start that he was not just late, but super late. The prince was already out of bed and dressed, and looked to be finishing breakfast. He must have had one of the passing servants fetch it for him when Merlin never showed up.

"I'm sorry, sire," Merlin exhaled in a rush as he started to busy himself about the room. He waited for Arthur to start yelling as he quickly made the bed, but it seemed like Merlin's entrance had put Arthur into some sort of shock, for the prince didn't speak until Merlin had come over to the table to start clearing up the dirtied dishes from breakfast.

"Woah, Merlin, wait, stop," Arthur finally protested, grabbing ahold of Merlin's wrist on its way to picking up Arthur's cup. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin pulled his hand from Arthur's grip. "My job?" he offered in return. Arthur blinked at him for a moment, then shook his head a little.

"Didn't Gaius tell you? I've given you the day off."

"Wha-" Merlin stared at Arthur. "…why?"

'Does there have to be a reason?' Arthur wanted to say, but he didn't think voicing his worries about Merlin looking so tired all the time would be a good idea at all. So he shrugged. "You finished everything pressing yesterday, and I thought I'd just go riding today. No need for you to worry about saddling up my horse when there are stable boys paid to do that," he managed to lie smoothly. Merlin still didn't look entirely convinced, and so Arthur realized he'd have to chase him off. "Look, do you want your day off, or should I order you to go muck out the stables?"

Well, that certainly worked. Merlin just about fled the room, but not before offering Arthur one of his trademark lopsided grins that Arthur realized he'd been missing. He didn't know what it had been with the last week, but even Merlin had been less smiley…

…the day off would probably help, Arthur told himself.

* * *

><p>Just because Merlin didn't understand Arthur's motives behind letting him laze off for a day, didn't mean he didn't like it. Last week had been a whirlwind, watching Gwen nearly get executed and trying to find a way to save her. And then, in trying to save her, Merlin had nearly been executed himself… but more worrying than that had been how close Arthur had been to recognizing him. When Gaius said that there was 'something of you in the eyes', Merlin hadn't realized that Arthur spent nearly enough time looking at Merlin to be able to almost recognize him as an eighty year old man! He tended to think of Arthur as rather unobservant and a touch on the thick side. He was well meaning, always, and good at heart, which is what kept Merlin at his side (aside from the whole destiny thing, which he'd honestly find a way to ignore if Arthur hadn't somehow made himself Merlin's friend). But Arthur had almost recognized him, almost found him out, he'd almost realized that Merlin had magic. Which would certainly ruin everything. Thinking about it, how close he'd been, left him sitting up some at night, which led to a lack of sleep, which in turn led to him really, really appreciating this day off. And just when he'd thought that Arthur had made up his mind to be a prat for the rest of his life…<p>

He returned to the physician's chambers that he shared with Gaius, only to find that his guardian had already left to do his rounds. He must have known Merlin was coming back, though, for the boy's breakfast was still waiting for him on the table. Since Merlin had made sleeping in and skipping breakfast somewhat of a habit, he didn't really mind that the food was a touch on the cold side, because it was better than nothing. And a couple experimental spells when he was halfway done and had thought to try them made it warm again.

Then, he supposed, it was a day to himself. It had been so long since he'd had a lazy day that he didn't really know what to do with it, so he just headed back up to his room and, on some compulsion to be productive, he tidied it up. It was badly in need of it, anyways, and once the floor was clear of clothes and other miscellaneous items (honestly, how did it get this messy in here when Merlin was never in here to mess it up?) he was able to get to the trick floorboard just under his bed and pull out the spellbook he'd been meaning to read for ages now. He'd gotten the chance every once in a while, thumbing through late at night while his magic worked away on polishing the prince's armor, but he did need to sleep, too. But he'd already slept in today and was feeling better than he had for a week, for more than a week, and he had free time. Free time. What a luxury.

He read and practiced with his spellbook in secret for the better part of an hour, but then he heard Gaius coming back and so he stowed the tome away under the floor again. Despite being the person to give him this book, Gaius certainly didn't approve of the use of it, so Merlin worked in secret even from the one person in Camelot who knew about his magic. He came down the short stairway from his room to greet Gaius, but his small smile was wiped off when he saw what his guardian was holding.

"Is that a shopping list?" he asked. Gaius chuckled in a way that Merlin would be hard pressed to say was 'good natured'.

"Just because Arthur's given you the day off doesn't mean I have to," he said, and Merlin sighed. "You've already had all morning, certainly you're getting bored by now, aren't you?"

Merlin couldn't find it in him to argue with Gaius, so he simply nodded, took the list and the shopping money, and headed out to the square. He did his best to wipe the disgruntled look to a grateful one when he saw Arthur, though, apparently just coming in from his ride. He offered the prince a wave, and when Arthur returned it and seemed to want to talk, Merlin hovered at the foot of the stairs to wait. The prince dismounted his horse and went over to his servant, and the two started talking at the same time.

"Enjoy your ride?" and "Having a good day off?" were voiced at once, leaving both boys scrambling to answer the other. Merlin nodded to let Arthur go first.

"Yes, the weather was great," the prince replied, before nodding to Merlin and noting the scrap of paper in his hand. "What's that?"

"Shopping list for Gaius," Merlin answered. "Yeah, I had a great morning off, but I can't hide from chores with the both of you around, can I? Wouldn't be fair for both of you to give me a free day, I'm not that lucky." He laughed a little, and Arthur smiled.

"What's he sending you after?" he asked, holding out his hand silently for the list. Merlin handed it over, and Arthur read it quickly. "This is a lot."

"Yeah, well, we usually get our food from the palace kitchens, but since there was a feast just two days ago, it's a little short there, so we have to fill it out ourselves," Merlin explained. "And there was a bout of some cold going through the lower town last I heard, so Gaius is short on honey and mint for coughing remedies, so," he trailed off with a shrug, taking back the list.

"Mind if I come with you?" Arthur asked, and Merlin's eyebrows went up.

"Well, I certainly can't stop you," he said. "But it is my day off, so if you were planning on using me as your shopping basket…" Arthur stopped Merlin from finishing his sentence with a laugh.

"No, that wasn't it at all. I was just thinking about, with how clumsy you are, you're likely to drop those jars of honey if you're trying to juggle all of the things on that list."

Merlin offered Arthur that lopsided, disbelieving grin. "So… are you offering to be _my_ shopping basket, then?" he questioned, and the prince shrugged.

"Sounds like it, doesn't it?"

The servant snorted a laugh. "I suppose it doesn't kill you to be nice every once in a while, I see," he said, watching curiously as Arthur lit up with that statement. He paused for a moment, studying that reaction, before shrugging it off and heading towards the gate. "Come on, then, Gaius is expecting me back."


	4. Chapter 4

**To everyone who left reviews: Thank you! I hope you enjoy this next chapter - I had a lot of fun writing it. :D**

Shopping with Merlin, Arthur found, was as whirlwind an experience as shopping with Morgana used to be. Now, Arthur was used to getting recognized when he went out into the city, used to drawing attention everywhere he went, and usually this went to his head and he didn't really think about anything else other than making sure his etiquette was appropriate and his 'prince smile' for the public was in place and he listened to each townsperson that approached him with reverence and understanding, because someday he was going to be a strong king and chances to go out among the people like this would become slim, and so he needed the reputation now. Of course, it was more than reputation for Arthur, he genuinely did care about his people, and public appearances were sort of his thing.

But it was so blasted hard to keep Merlin in his sight when Arthur stopped to talk to people, and if he thought the load was getting too heavy for him, Merlin was sure to shove something else into his arms with a stern order of 'don't drop this, it's important!', and curse it if he didn't find himself tripping over his feet to shatter his composed image when Merlin suddenly stopped at one stall or another to haggle over something with the little gold he possessed only to move on to some other vendor who was harping about a better price. Arthur was tempted to just pay for everything himself, to make this horrid trip end.

"What's left?" the prince asked when finally managed to catch up to Merlin and see him over the stack of goods that was precariously balanced in his arms. Was it even possible for people to need this much stuff? Well, he felt a pang of guilt for thinking that when he realized what he was carrying was mostly food, and he did want Merlin eating more… he tried not to look so relieved, though, when Merlin reported back that he'd just crossed off the last item. He didn't try to shove the jars of honey into Arthur's already full hands, electing to carry them himself.

"Thank you," Merlin said, and Arthur managed a shrug around the pile of objects. Internally, he was elated at hearing the phrase – it meant Merlin recognized that he was trying not to be a prat. He idly wondered what it'd be like if he ever said those words to Merlin. Arthur wasn't sure he ever had before.

"I can only imagine you trying to carry all of this," he offered in return, and Merlin laughed and shook his head.

"Can't you just say 'you're welcome' like a normal person?" he quipped, to another laugh, this time from Arthur. Merlin shook his head again and headed back up the street. Arthur was following right at his heels, as he wasn't expecting Merlin to stop again. When the servant did, though, Arthur barely kept himself from walking into his back. He made a disgruntled noise at the stop and looked over the stack of goods to demand of Merlin why it had happened, when the look on his servant's face stopped him. He followed Merlin's gaze to a windowed storefront, much unlike the stalls they'd been visiting, and was a little surprised to see him staring at one of the print shops. The next obvious question of 'why are you staring at that, is something interesting going on in there?' was cut off as Arthur watched Merlin glance into the coin pouch he carried, make a face, and glance back up at the shop.

Oh.

It had been quite a revelation to Arthur when he'd found out that Merlin, a peasant boy, could actually read. Most of the servants Arthur got didn't have such education, and he'd wondered from where Merlin had gotten his tutoring. He'd seen Ealdor and met Merlin's mother, and while they were both charming, there was nothing really high bar about either of them. He had supposed Merlin must have learned from someone sometime, and had once figured it had to be Merlin's father, but then he'd found out that Merlin had never actually known the man. So Arthur had come, a bit belatedly, to the conclusion that Merlin was actually not that stupid, and must've taught himself. Oh, he was sure Gaius had helped once Merlin had gotten to Camelot, but Merlin could even write, and more than just his name. When he'd finally asked Merlin about it, the boy had snarked something about not being an idiot (yeah, Arthur knew that much, just would never admit it) and confirmed his guesses.

'Even as a kid, I wasn't really cut out for farming. And there wasn't much else to do in Ealdor. Sometimes I'd walk to the closest bigger town, I started out just reading the signs, names of places, things like that. I eventually plucked up the courage to go into one of the print shops, and stare at the spines of the books and listen to people read the titles until I understood them myself. And then I started coming so often that the shop owner noticed me and told me to buy something, and I told him I didn't have any money. About a week after that, he just started giving me the books on loan, provided I returned them in good shape. I was always sure to, and as quick as I could, though I kept the first one for about a month, figuring it out and learning the symb- letters, what they meant. The third book he gave me had my name in it, he told me it was a gift – it was a writer, and I took it home and took off from there. It's the only book I've ever owned.'

Oooooooh.

Arthur was about to speak up and tell Merlin that he wouldn't mind going into the print shop if his servant really wanted to before Merlin seemed to regain himself, and he spoke, instead. "Come on, we should get back," he said, shoving the pouch of coins deep into his pocket. It didn't take skilled eyes to notice that it was practically empty, so Arthur did.

Hm.

* * *

><p>The next day, Merlin was on time for work, which meant Arthur woke up on time and his breakfast was hot and not half spilled. But what made the prince really grin was the fact that Merlin didn't look as drained as he usually did. There weren't any dark bags under his eyes, and the servant was even whistling a little tune as he set about his chores while Arthur ate breakfast. Normally, Arthur'd complain about the noise, but knowing that he had been the one to put Merlin in this good mood left him in too good a mood himself to mind. If today went well, maybe he'd even get another 'thank you' from Merlin before it was over.<p>

"I'm finished," Arthur announced as he polished off the last bite of his cheese, and Merlin came over dutifully to clear up for the prince. The whistling stopped as Merlin found himself in a good enough mood to even try getting away with teasing Arthur.

"It certainly disappeared fast today, sire," he chimed lightly, a toying grin on his lips. Arthur cuffed Merlin lightly behind his ear, as it was in reach.

"Are you calling me fat?" he asked with mock indignation. The insinuation used to honestly make him mad, but the joke had gone on for long enough now that Arthur knew that's what it was – a joke. At any rate, he didn't think he noticed any new holes in his belt, but Merlin could be surprisingly sneaky when he wanted to be, for such a klutz. "Because I am not fat," he added in, the anger in his tone completely ruined by the grin on his face.

"I didn't call you anything except sire, you dollophead," Merlin returned, ducking away as Arthur aimed to hit him again.

"You can't speak to me that way."

"Hrm, just did, oops."

Merlin tensed like a bird poised for flight as Arthur got up. The prince wondered why and was about to ask after it before Merlin relaxed. Arthur let it go, and Merlin turned back to clearing the table. "Will that be all this morning?" the servant asked, and Arthur started to nod, before he remembered, with a grin, that it wasn't.

"No. Leave the tray, come here," he said, moving over to his desk. Merlin regarded Arthur a little suspiciously, but did as he was asked. Not without complaint – Arthur heard him mutter something about 'being so secretive.' Arthur thought that was rich, coming from Merlin, who he'd found he really didn't know that much about despite having known him for four years. His name and his hometown, he knew, as well as where he lived now, but Arthur didn't know anything about Merlin's preferences, and the servant was stubbornly hard to read. One thing Arthur did know, though was that Merlin liked books, and while he didn't know enough to be able to buy a book to Merlin's tastes and gift it to him himself, he could do this much. He reached into the top drawer of his desk and picked up the small coin pouch that he'd filled the night before, tossing it across the desk to Merlin. The servant only just managed to catch it. The clumsy, startled way Merlin fumbled with the thrown object reminded Arthur of a spooked deer. Hoping to ward off the look of utter shock, Arthur spoke an explanation. "A raise," he said.

Merlin only stared at him. "A raise," he repeated. "What for?"

Uh. Now this was a question Arthur really should have planned for. He tried shrugging it off. "Good servants are hard to come by, I want to keep you around."

"I'm not that good," Merlin said, a frowning expression on his lips. Arthur snorted a little at his servant's self-deprecation.

"No, you're right. But you've been performing adequately, which is above average for someone like you, and it hasn't gone unnoticed," he tried next. Merlin started to look less startled and more suspicious again. Arthur managed a shrug. "And anyway, now you can go buy those fairy tales you were staring at so devotedly yesterday."

Merlin's suspicion broke to something like realization, then he looked a little touched, then Arthur's words actually processed and he looked indignant. "I was not staring at the fairy tales!"

Arthur waved him off. "Just say thank you and go, Merlin. I don't know what books you read, but considering how much of a girl you are—"

"That insult again, are you serious, Arthur? At least I can get creative with my name calling, beetle brain!"

"Idiot!" Arthur fired back.

"Knotty-pated goat!"

"Buffoon!"

"Lack-witted pansy!"

"Nitwit!"

"Burly-boned, dizzy-headed, malmsey-nosed, pigeon-livered, rump-fed mouth breather!"

There was a pause. Merlin had leaned forward, one hand resting on Arthur's desk as the other gripped the pouch of coins to his chest. Arthur mirrored the position, both his hands on his desk, the small table the only thing between the two men who were both now trying to catch their breath.

In the same heartbeat, they both burst into laughter.

"Are you sure you even know what half of those names mean, Merlin?" Arthur asked between breaths. Merlin took a while to respond.

"Most of them, 'you're fat'," he said. Arthur snorted and Merlin giggled and both of them covered their mouths.

"You're absolutely hilarious, Merlin," Arthur drawled. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"You'd get bored without me," he returned. Arthur lowered his hand, revealing his grin. It was true. Merlin was the only person who could possibly ever get away with this, the name calling, the joking, the treating Arthur like he was an actual person and not a prince.

"Yeah, and I do want you to stick around, all right? So take that and go get your stupid book," he said. Merlin looked quite pleased with himself as he nodded and started towards the door.

He stopped, though, in the threshold, and Arthur was wondering why until his servant spoke again. "Hey, thank you. I do appreciate it."

Arthur beamed. "Whatever, Merlin," he said. Merlin rolled his eyes, but before he could get out the door, Arthur returned the words. "Thank you, too."

The glance Merlin threw over his shoulder told Arthur he clearly hadn't been expecting to hear that. The prince only smiled and shrugged, and Merlin shook his head a little. "You're welcome," he said in disbelief. He did leave the room, then, and Arthur found himself wondering if something as small as those words were all it took to get Merlin grinning.


	5. Chapter 5

**So this is the last chapter! I do enjoy a little bit of drama, so this chapter is just a tiny bit heavier than the others, but it still ends on a light note. Enjoy!**

Merlin supposed he should have suspected that it would have to end.

Arthur's good mood had been like the sun – in as rainy a country as Merlin lived, it was a rare thing. The three days it had been out had been fantastic, Merlin was even starting to look forward to going to work. Arthur had generally been all smiles and requests instead of orders, and the day off had been great, despite (or perhaps, because of) the fact that Arthur had been around. And then the pay raise, and Merlin kind of figured he was sitting pretty. He didn't know what he'd done to suddenly get in Arthur's good books. Maybe it was the fact that Gwen was still alive. Though Arthur couldn't know that Merlin had anything to do with it, it still felt like he was being rewarded. Merlin didn't have anything to complain about, certainly.

And then as soon as Merlin had gotten used to it, Arthur's good mood blew south. Maybe it was the tournament. Maybe it was fighting against his father in the tournament. Maybe it was losing the fight against his father. It was probably that.

Despite all of the good intentions Arthur had in purposefully throwing the fight so his father could save face, Arthur could get quite moody when he wasn't in the limelight, and he was a sore loser. The worst part about it for Merlin, though, was the fact that the prince would not shut up about it.

"Do you have any idea what's it's like to live with a man who constantly thinks he's the best?"

Merlin found this incredibly ironic, coming from Prince Arthur, whom the world simply revolved around. It must have shown on his face, because now Arthur was glaring at him. The servant forced up a surprisingly placating tone to answer with.

"No, I can't imagine."

It didn't exactly cut it, because Arthur just rolled his eyes and tossed his scabbard onto the table, where it landed with a clatter. "Shut up, Merlin, and help me off my armor."

Merlin bit his tongue for once. Arthur was hardly in the mood for anything overly smart right now. Merlin found he really wasn't all that keen on banter, either, feeling a little sharp himself. After all, he could never have just one worry at a time, could he? Even with Arthur being bratty and talking nonstop, Merlin found his thoughts wandering to the fight that would happen tomorrow, and Gilli, and how he knew that he had to stop the young warlock before he did anything to harm Uther. Honestly, if Arthur knew just how much Merlin did to protect everyone…

But he never could, could he?

He came forward as the prince bade and started undoing the straps as Arthur prattled on about his father.

"The man is insufferable! You know he's been trying to train me, as if I needed training- as if I couldn't knock him off his rear! His footwork needs work, do you know that, and he starts to lecture me-"

"I know where I wish you'd put your foot…"

It was probably the sharp mood that Merlin himself was in that gave him the spite to utter those words. With as loud as Arthur was talking, Merlin honestly hadn't expected him to catch the muttered phrase. But he did, of course, that was just Merlin's luck. It wasn't with a sharp rebuttal that Arthur came back at him, though. The prince snatched up his gauntlet off the table, where Merlin had laid it, and whirled around.

Merlin backed up a pace and instinctively put his hands up to protect his head, hoping this little tantrum would end Arthur's bad mood. It certainly wasn't the first time Arthur'd thrown things at him, it just wasn't usually this close range. Merlin took another step back to get further away, but his foot caught on the rug and he hit the ground. A small wince left him as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, and he landed on his rear, where just a couple days ago he'd been whipped by that rogue who wanted his boots licked clean. The spot still smarted. The wince was pained, but Merlin remembered himself and just kept it to a grimace – he had to stay in this moment, protect himself from what was going on now. He bit his tongue and kept his hands up to defend himself from the piece of armor that was certain to come sailing at his head.

About ten seconds passed, and Merlin heard a clatter. He opened his eyes and found that Arthur had dropped the gauntlet and was staring at Merlin with something between shock and concern in his eyes.

"What?" Merlin finally asked, to break the silence when Arthur didn't.

It took Arthur a moment. "You fell."

Merlin held in his scoff. Thank you, Captain Obvious. "It's hardly a rare thing."

"No, you… you were running, you flinched back-"

This time, Merlin did scoff. "You were going to throw your gauntlet at me!" he retorted. Honestly, Arthur could be so thick sometimes… He was shocked, now, as Arthur flinched a little, something like guilt in his eyes. But Merlin pressed on. "I've learned to at least try to dodge, you've got quite an arm," he said. When Arthur still didn't say anything, Merlin huffed a little sigh and got back to his feet, scooping up the gauntlet as he did and sitting it back on the table, though out of Arthur's immediate reach. This did not seem to escape Arthur's notice, and it made the upset look on his face grow. Merlin wasn't sure he liked it. "What?" he repeated. "This is hardly an uncommon occurrence, Arthur," he said, snapping a little. He couldn't help it, honestly. What right did Arthur have to complain all day, threaten Merlin with a pommeling, and then act like he was the hurt one?

"Have I ever mistreated you?"

Arthur asked the question so suddenly that Merlin wondered how long he had been bursting with it. It wiped away Merlin's indignation with shock.

He knew what mistreated servants looked like, he'd seen them before. There had been Trickler, to start with, that sorcerer that was at Alined's beck and call. Merlin doubted the man was still alive, after having been chained and forced to run all the way back to his king's castle, for failing to start a war. Then there were times when knights and lords from nearby lands visited – Merlin had seen the skittish way some of those servants had edged around their masters, eyes downcast and movements careful and voices quiet and respectful. Even here, in the citadel, it was not unheard of for unruly servants to be ordered to be clapped in irons by a guard or a knight or even Uther himself for some indiscretion to spend the night in the dungeon.

Even though Merlin himself had been shoved in the stocks more than once (which was really unfair since it was usually because he was doing something to save Arthur's skin, but the prince couldn't know that) there had never been such a dynamic between he and the prince. Just as Merlin had never really been the subservient type, it was rarely something that Arthur had ever demanded of him. And outside of a few well-meaning shoves or jostles or playful punches to the arm, Arthur never raised a hand to Merlin. Sure, there was the throwing-of-closest-nearby-items issue, but comparatively, Merlin had it good. It was less servant and master in the room when they were alone, and more two friends. Merlin had saved Arthur's life many times, and though he wasn't keeping score, Arthur had proved himself just as willing to protect Merlin. They weren't exactly equals, especially not in public, but they were friends.

Merlin had kind of assumed that Arthur knew that. The prince let him get away with far more than he brooked from other servants, or even the knights. Even when Arthur was fed up with Merlin, there was never more than a threatening word or, as had been shown today, a carelessly pitched gauntlet that would do no more than smart for a few minutes. There had never been the threat of beatings, nor any sort of actual abuse. Merlin held a deep trust and respect for Arthur, which lead to him being really, really confused about why this worry had suddenly taken ahold of the prince. It really had no reason to be there.

Then, things started clicking into place.

He hardly had to think about it, once it made sense. He just started laughing. "Arthur!" he said, shaking his head a little. "Is that what all of this has been about? The… the day off, the pay raise- heaven, the jacket, too, and… sending me back with food, going to the market with me?" he questioned. Arthur now looked less penitent and more like a toddler whom Merlin had just caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The prince opened his mouth to respond, but Merlin was almost howling with laughter, one hand bracing on the table as he bent double. "This isn't because of what Dragoon said?" he asked.

Arthur wondered if he had always been such an open book.

And Merlin, well, the thought that something he'd said while in the guise of a half-senile old sorcerer had affected Arthur this much… oh, it was priceless.

"Would you stop laughing!?" Arthur finally spluttered, putting his hands on Merlin's shoulders and tugging him upright. "I'm being serious, Merlin!"

Merlin's laughter cooled back to an occasional chuckle. "Arthur," he started, something fond in his voice that only surfaced itself when Arthur found he most needed it. "If you mistreated me, do you honestly think you wouldn't hear about it?"

Arthur's grip on Merlin's shoulders relaxed a little. "It's just, sometimes the things you say when you think I'm not listening…"

"Arthur." Merlin shook his head, putting his hands on Arthur's wrists and gently prying the prince's hold off of his shoulders. "You may be an arrogant brat, but that doesn't mean you're not my friend."

For once, Arthur didn't correct him on the term. So Merlin continued. "Besides, I can tell how much you've been trying the past few days. Clearly, you care-" the servant snickered as Arthur averted his eyes and stammered a denial on reflex, "-and if I actually found you intolerable, you think I'd have stuck it out in this job for four years? They tell me that before I came, you couldn't keep a manservant for more than a week."

"You aren't like the rest."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and he smiled. It was rare, incredibly rare, to hear Arthur say something so open. It shut Merlin up for a moment, so he could just bask in that sentiment. Arthur was trying. He really was trying to be a good friend. And even if he had a strange way of going about it, with his little handouts and trying to help Merlin out and just generally not being prattish… Merlin did appreciate the effort. Arthur remained quiet, because it seemed like he had nothing more to say. Until,

"Oh, don't look so pleased, you're not that special."

Merlin shook his head and rolled his eyes. "As you say, sire," he said. The silence between them went unbroken for a long while after this. Merlin finished helping Arthur out of his armor and sat down to polish it at the prince's table as Arthur moved over to his desk. Merlin was just starting to think about breaking the easy quiet between them, when Arthur suddenly did.

"Thank you," he said, and Merlin absolutely lit up.

"Don't overdo it, Arthur, I'll start to get the idea that you aren't the prat you pretend to be."

Arthur gave a quiet chuckle in return. He couldn't put it to words, really, what Merlin meant. His one friend in the world, he didn't know what he'd do if Merlin left. Probably wake up late. Trip over things in his own room all the time because no one was there to look after him. Put his clothes on backwards and look like an idiot in dented and unpolished armor. Oh, sure, there could always be a new servant. But there wasn't another person like Merlin.

Luckily, Arthur didn't have to say things like this, because it seemed Merlin already knew. If the fond look in his eyes was any giveaway.

Arthur shook his head a little. "Can't you just say 'you're welcome', like a normal person?" he asked, joking. Merlin's smile only grew.

"Fine. …you're welcome, Arthur."

**This concludes my first Merlin fanfic! Thank you to everyone who read, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review to let me know what you liked - hopefully I'll be writing again soon!**


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